


found my heart and broke it here

by amsves



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And thus he will suffer, Catharsis, Crying, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, First Kiss, I love him, Izaya's injuries are worse than in his novel, Izaya-centric, M/M, Paralysis, Post-Canon, Sharing a Bed, Spooning, Wheelchairs, i haven't read it, i think???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 16:47:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9666365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amsves/pseuds/amsves
Summary: Life was the same after losing the use of his legs.





	

Life was the same after losing the use of his legs.  
  
The details had changed, of course. Izaya no longer skipped around the city of Ikebukuro, no longer got into fights for the hell of it. Really, he didn’t even leave his house.  
  
He was fine. He wasn’t struggling to get by. He’d accumulated quite a large sum of money throughout his short-lived career as an information broker, and his three apartments had sold for quite a pretty penny. He’d moved to a single-story, one-bedroom about thirty minutes outside the city and tossed or sold most of his possessions. No, money wasn’t an issue.  
  
Neither was housekeeping. Celty and Shinra came by once a week to talk and do basic chores like dusting in high places. Celty had continued her cooking lessons with Mika over Skype, and thus Izaya received a hot, home-cooked meal once a week. They were edible almost every time, and most were even _good_. The two only stayed a few hours or so, but it was enough to slow Izaya’s descent into insanity via isolation, something for which he was eternally grateful.  
  
Most of the time, Izaya read. The few possessions he’d kept during the move were mostly books, and though he’d turned these same pages hundreds of times, he never grew truly tired of them. To keep up with the outside world, he’d read news article after news article until his eyes hurt from the strain. Then, he would gaze out the window at the distant world outside for a few minutes, before returning to his computer. It was an endless cycle, day in and day out. But that was alright.  
  
He lost weight. He hardly ate. The few things he could make for himself he was sick of eating.  
  
“He’s all skin and bones,” he’d heard Shinra whisper to Celty behind a closed door. “And so pale! It’s like he hasn’t been outside since.”  
  
That was the truth. Izaya had confined himself to his home, unwilling to subject himself to the unbearable but surefire human reaction of pity. And God forbid he run into an old acquaintance. Friend or foe, sorrow or scorn, his reputation and heart were too fragile to take that blow. He could observe his precious humans from the comfort and solitude of his own home, safe from sympathy, hiding behind the obscurity of one of his many Internet identities.  
  
To think he’d once been so beautiful! Yodogiri had told him that being too handsome would hurt his anonymity, but surely, this sickly persona was not what the old man had in mind.  
  
Yes, the details were different, but life was very much the same.   
  
Izaya had taken to Internet forums, answering strangers’ questions (for free!) as a way to pass the time when he could not sleep. Restful hours were few and far between now. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see it—the possessed crowd, the steel beams, that bastard Shizu-chan cursing his name like it was some kind of heresy—  
  
“I-za-ya-kun.”  
  
Izaya froze. No, it couldn’t be. He couldn’t have—  
  
“Oi, Izaya-kun! Open up!”  
  
There it was again, that growling voice that sauntered through his nightmares like he had once frolicked through the city—  
  
“Oi, flea! I’ll break your door down if you don’t let me in!”  
  
Very cautiously, Izaya made his way over to his front door. He opened it slightly, and peered through the crack. His eyes widened. _No!_  
  
He made to slam the door, but Shizuo was too fast. Before Izaya could truly process what had happened, Heiwajima Shizuo was in his living room. He sat down on the couch and plucked a piece off the chessboard—the white king. It was a normal chessboard, set so that two normal people might play, not like Izaya’s battle strategy board that he’d tossed in the move. What use did it have, when he could no longer orchestrate his schemes?  
  
Izaya followed slowly behind, wheelchair causing the floorboards to creak underneath him. He passed Shizuo on the couch and made his way over to the big window on his westward-facing wall. The fiery orange sun was beginning to set, and the intensity of its glare hurt his eyes, but Izaya was determined not to look at that man. The man who had done this to him. The man who—despite claiming to hate violence—had crushed, _destroyed_ the bones in Izaya’s spine so thoroughly that he’d spend the rest of his life sitting down.  
  
“Why are you here?”  
  
Izaya didn’t have to look behind him to know that Shizuo was fidgeting. “Well—”  
  
“Have you come to finish me off? To kill my arms like you’ve killed my legs?” He paused. “Or, are you here because you think an apology will make this all water under the bridge?”  
  
“I’m sorry,” the blonde man blurted.  
  
Izaya struggled to contain his surprise. Shizu-chan, apologizing? “Ah, I see. So it was the second option.”  
  
But Shizuo heard the quavering of his voice. In the reflection in the window, Izaya could see the bastard’s smirk. “Caught you off-guard, eh?” He chuckled. “Must be out of practice.”  
  
“I am,” was Izaya’s simple reply.  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“Surely, when Shinra told you to come here, he mentioned the fact that I’m a hermit now. I haven’t left my house in nearly six months. The only people I talk to are Shinra and Celty, and she’s not even a person. So yes, Heiwajima-kun,” he spat, “You could say I’m ‘out of practice.’”  
  
Shizuo was stunned. “I can’t believe—”  
  
Izaya angled his chair slightly toward the bastard seated on his couch. “Can’t believe what, Heiwajima-kun?” Shizuo winced. “Oh, Does that hurt, that I’m no longer on a first-name basis with the man who paralyzed me?” He turned back toward the window. The sun was almost gone. “You should go. You can tell Shinra you came by like he asked, and that I refused to see you and threw you out. Surely he’s predicted that as a potential outcome.”  
  
“Can I stay the night?” Shizuo asked awkwardly. “The streets of Ikebukuro are more dangerous now than ever, and I don’t want to risk a fight.”  
  
Izaya couldn’t disguise his disbelief. “You don’t want to risk a fight? You, _the_ Heiwajima Shizuo?”  
  
Shizuo shrugged. “I haven’t fought anyone since…” He trailed off. There was no need to finish the sentence.   
  
The unspoken words filled the air between them, heavy with guilt and remorse.  
  
Izaya felt a headache coming on from all this madness. He pinched the bridge of his his nose. “Fine,” he relented begrudgingly, “But I don’t know where you’re going to sleep. You’re too big for my couch, and I only have one bed.”  
  
Shizuo just smiled sheepishly, and Izaya sighed.  
  
-  
  
The lights were off, but the dark bedroom was illuminated by moonlight. The two boys lay facing each other, scowling. Or, at least, Izaya was scowling.  
  
Shizuo looked a mess. Izaya almost felt sorry for the man; the amount of emotional pain and sorrow painted across Shizu-chan’s face was equal to or greater than his own. He felt his facial features soften with fatigue, the facial muscles responsible for frowning giving out on him. “Shizu-chan,” he whispered, no malice in his voice, “Why did you come here? Am I right? Was it because Shinra told you to?”  
  
“It wasn’t Shinra,” the other man admitted. “I just wanted to see you.”  
  
“Why?” Such a simple question, yet it required such a heavy answer.  
  
“I wanted to see how you were getting on. I’d heard about your injuries, but I didn’t know how bad they were.”  
  
“The doctors say I’ll never be able to walk again.” Izaya’s voice was small and broken, trembling like a leaf in the wind. “With any luck, I might regain some feeling in my legs, but—”  
  
“You’re crying,” Shizuo interrupted, incredulous.  
  
“What? No, I’m—” Izaya touched a hand to his cheek and marveled when his fingers came away damp with tears. “So I am. I can’t remember the last time it cried.” He sighed again; it seemed like all he did these days was sigh. “I didn’t even cry when they told me I’d be confined to the chair for the rest of my life. I just laughed. I couldn’t believe it. It was like it wasn’t real.”  
  
 Shizuo brushed his thumb over Izaya’s other cheek and wiped away the tears. “You said you only talk to Shinra and Celty, right?” Izaya nodded. “What about your sisters?”  
  
“I called them,” Izaya said nonchalantly, “From the hospital, and left a message, asking them to call me back. I told them that I was moving, and emailed them this address. If they ever want to contact me, they know how, but why would they want to?” He laughed drily. “Why would they want to see their poor, crippled, fallen, failure of a brother—” His words were cut off by a sob.  
  
Shizuo ran his fingers through Izaya’s dark hair in a calming gesture. “Hey, Izaya, you—”  
  
“You didn’t call me by an honorific,” Izaya interrupted. “What’s up with that?”  
  
“I’m pretty sure we’re past honorifics at this point,” Shizuo answered. “I mean, look at us: sharing a bed, talking about feelings … Anyways.” He cleared his throat. Both boys had bright pink smudges of blush splattered across their cheeks. “Anyways, you know you’re not alone, right? I mean, you know we care about you? Celty, Shinra, Kururi, Mairu, we all love you.” Izaya made to interrupt, but Shizuo clasped a hand over his mouth. “Yes, you’re an asshole, but you’re our asshole. So cheer up.” He smiled, a blinding white beam bright as the moon.  
  
Izaya blinked, and pried Shizuo’s hand off of his mouth. “You all … love me? Even though I’ve been so awful to you all, you don’t hate me?”  
  
Shizuo nodded.  
  
“Shizu-chan, no wait.” Izaya drew a deep breath. “Shizuo … you love me, too?”  
  
Shizuo nodded again.   
  
Izaya couldn’t stop himself from crying. The tears came like a deluge, soaking his pillowcase. Shizuo pulled him in for a hug.   
  
Izaya’s cries continued for what could have been hours, occasionally punctuated by phrases that made Shizuo’s heartstrings want to snap in half, like “Don’t leave me,” and “Shizuo, I’m scared.” All he could do was hold Izaya close and wait out the storm.  
  
Finally, Izaya’s tears tapered off. He sniffled, and wiped his nose with his sleeve. “Heh, sorry about that, Shizu-chan. Don’t go telling other people ‘bout this, okay?” His smile was sad, but full of hope. “Don’t need everyone to know that I’m such a softie. It would hurt my cold and unfeeling reputation.”  
  
Shizuo ruffled Izaya’s hair. It was longer now, creeping down to his shoulders. “Don’t worry, you damn flea. You’re secret’s safe with me.”  
  
They lay in silence for a while, tired smiles gracing both of their faces. Izaya’s chest felt lighter than it had in years. Finally, he broke the silence. “Hey, Shizuo?”   
  
“What?”  
  
“Can I kiss you?”  
  
Shizuo studied Izaya’s expectant face in the silver moonlight. He was a mess, sure, all blotchy from catharsis, rosy lips cracking and chapped, but he also looked … younger. Softer, like his edges had been worn down. Izaya had always looked like touching him would give you a paper cut, but now, he just looked … free.  
  
Shizuo grinned slyly, and tenderly pressed his own lips to Izaya’s.   
  
-  
  
Celty and Shinra stopped by the following afternoon, as per usual. The first thing Shinra noticed was that the house was too quiet. It was always quiet, as Izaya was the only one there and he tended to be a rather silent man, but all the lights were off, like it was empty. Shinra and Celty split up to check the house and find Izaya.   
  
The search didn’t take long, as the house was small. Finally, the only room left was the bedroom. Shinra knocked on the door, but received no answer. Slowly, he opened it.  
  
Immediately he whipped out his phone and snapped a few pictures. Celty would never believe this unless she saw it with her own two … whatever. Izaya and Shizuo were sleeping in Izaya’s bed. At one in the afternoon. And they were spooning.

**Author's Note:**

> Izaya is my son, my husband, my love, the light of my life ... and thus I will break him to fucking pieces if I must.
> 
> Also let us all take a moment to imagine Shizaya spooning please it will heal the soul.
> 
> Inspired by a piece of art: http://rinfiora.tumblr.com/post/141547041852/ive-found-it-my-peace-ive-finally-found-you


End file.
